Earlier this week while we were out shopping on State Street in Santa Barbara, we got very very sad news.

About a year ago, the Mr. and I started house searching while I was still pregnant with Dianna. We found the perfect place about a month of looking non-stop: a two-story, three bedroom, two and a half bath home with handscraped hardwood floors in 70% of the house and cathedral ceilings.

My big brother helped us by getting approved for a loan and we made an offer quickly. And it got accepted! Problem was that it was a short sale, meaning that the owner of the house was paying a mortgage that was way more than the place was worth and appealing to the bank for help. We were shooting for about a three month wait to close, because we were told that had been the average time.

By August of last year, we couldn't take the wait anymore and talked to the owner about just moving in while we waited for the deal to close and paying him the amount of money our mortage would be. Who would turn down extra money like that per month? So we've been living in our home for about eight months and have come to truly love it.

Earlier this week, we got the news that the short sale was simply not going to go through. Our landlord/owner of the house was decent enough to call and let us know what was going on. Needless to say, but we were heartbroken and by then just wanted to go back to our cottage. Now, we're basically in limbo until we get back home and can figure out more of what we may do. Luckily, the Mr.'s parents recently have gone through legal battles over the many homes they own and will be able to hopefully guide us through this house purgatory.

There is something supremely wrong with all the nation's banks right now and our little family is only getting a very, very small taste of it. We're really just sad that the house we've made a home won't last us much longer.